When the sky clears and the clouds roll over
by EtherealCrescent
Summary: In which the end has come and gone and the only question left for Abbie to answer is: "What now?"— / Ichabod x Abbie / Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort/ two-shot
1. Chapter One

**title**: When the sky clears and the clouds roll over  
**summary**: In which the end has come and gone and the only question left for Abbie to answer is_— "What now?"_  
**pairing**: Abbie/Ichabod  
**word count**: ~3300  
**rating**: T (maybe M later)  
**genre**: romance, angst, hurt/comfort  
**author's note**: hopefully this is easy to follow without the extra direction but just fyi everything in italics is in the past (I am rather fond of the non-linear, if you didn't know):). Also, this is part one of a two part fic. fun fact: i've been going through my stash of incomplete stuff recently (fighting another battle with writers block) and there was a lot about this fic I remembered really liking so I turned on some music and finished part one.

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He's not a tax paying citizen.

He doesn't have a record that she can look up.

There is no way to peek into his life the way she can now peek into most everyone else's.

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Once Abbie has left Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod is _gone._

_— _as if he'd never even existed.

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_Only he had._

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PART I

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Abbie loves working for the FBI.

She's good at it, remarkably good at it, and it's a dream come true. For most of her life this has been her goal—_if she didn't count the time that she'd been a criminal herself—_and everyday when she wakes up she can be proud that after all that she's been through, she has still managed to make it so far.

Abbie spends her days tracking criminals and hackers, watching out for the safety of her country. Life is an orderly jumble of secrets and red-tape, investigations and black suits. She's a federal agent.

The only problem as far as she can see, is that everything_— _(everything they're doing from her first cup of coffee in the morning to walking out in the afternoon)_— _is completely and utterly _useless. _And truly if Abbie ever gave herself the time to think about it, _really let it sink in and mull it over,_ she might never think of anything else again.

Because once, not even that long ago, she had protected _all of mankind _(and in comparison- well... it's kinda like comparing apples and orange peels) and most everyone— _except a town of people her coworkers now insist on calling 'backwards country-folk (in a way that makes her seethe)— _would ever even know about it.

What could the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation do if the World was faced with another impending apocalypse?

(Sometimes Abbie laughs to herself alone at her desk at the thought)

_'Pointless.' she thinks as she finishes up some paperwork, 'needless.' "idle." inane waste of time.'—_

But then again, maybe that's just her perspective.

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(she tries not to think of the one other person who might see things the exact same way)

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_It's seven years from the moment Abbie met him—to the day— and the fire is receding, the devil kept at bay._

_"What now?" Abbie asks Ichabod. They are both bruised and battered. Abbie can taste the thick warm saltiness of blood in her mouth and Ichabod is favoring his left side. "It can't really be over," she says, clenching her fists anxiously. "I mean... it can't be... right?"_

_In the beginning (what feels like a lifetime ago) both Abbie and Ichabod had been a little more optimistic, they had been different people, but as time had passed and reality set in, they had both begun to accept it as fact: that though they might be able to prevent the end from coming, they'd most likely not live to see the fruits of their labor. _

_Now, Ichabod looks as shell-shocked as she feels inside. She watches him as he glances up at the sky, so peaceful and clear, so unlike the hell and brimstone it had been just hours—minutes—_seconds_ before, and then when nothings happens, he finally turns to answer her._

_"I think..." and then he stops, as if he can't believe his own traitorous mind. His brows crinkle and when they finally even out again, he is staring down in her eyes with an intensity that she's still never quite gotten use to. His next words are spoken with the hint of a smile, "I think we've won Abigail."_

_After a moment more of waiting for the inevitable, they walk home on the charred and crumbling sidewalk, each pondering a future they had long since assumed would never come._

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Abbie comes home from a long day at the office and throws her blazer down on the couch the first chance she gets. She hates wearing suits. Somehow they're confining and constricting and every other word that means the opposite of comfortable. If it is one thing she misses from working as a small town cop, it's her broken in leather jackets.

The day had been long. The television is on but muted as she runs frustrated fingers through the hair framing her face. For all of her skill, Abbie had still managed to make a mistake today and as such had spent most of it trying to undo the damage (in vain).

After about twenty minutes of perpetual quiet, during which Abbie prepares herself a t.v. dinner, she begins to play with the idea of calling Jenny to rant about all that happened. But ultimately, after she sits down to eat, she decides against it, the fleeting thought still not quite real.

(Jenny could be anywhere in the world right now, fighting for whatever causes she has deemed worthy of her notice and _besides_, though they've buried the hatchet, they still don't have the closest of relationships and besides that, most of what Abbie has to say is technically classified.

It's just that on hard days, for such a long time, she'd always had someone to confide in).

Instead, after she has consumed half her meal and the rest has gone cold, Abbie kicks her feet up and over her arm rest, leaving the majority of her legs dangling off the side, and buries down deeper into her arm chair. Her apartment is small— it's expensive living in a metropolitan area— but it's big enough for just her.

And it is _just her._

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When Abbie nods off, she is unable to keep herself from remembering another time.

—watching a movie on the couch,_ him_ sitting, _her_ lying with her legs sprawled across his lap, his long fingers unbelievably warm against her knees— an unspoken intimacy that was just: _ them._

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She is awoken by a nightmare.

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_It's been six months since the end of the world and Abbie is beginning to get restless. She's just a normal cop in Sleepy Hollow again; checking up on missing people (who never turn out to be missing) or arresting others for minor things like shoplifting at the local clothing stores— and that's on an eventful day. _

_She's made for more than just this. She was born for more than just this. And sometimes she feels empty knowing that maybe she's already served her purpose._

_'What now?' her mind whispers._

_When Abbie comes home, Ichabod has already set the table for the both of them._

_"How was your day sheriff?"_

_"Fine," she answers, stepping out of her boots and tugging her hair up into a ponytail, "Nothing too interesting," and by too interesting Abbie actually means nothing interesting at all, "How was yours?"_

_When Ichabod answers his face lights up and then he's going off on a tangent about the precise things that had made his day so wonderful. Abbie smiles and she means it, while still managing to feel a little hollow inside herself. _

_Ichabod is thriving. He has become a professor at the local college in the time __**since.**_

_(One thing Abbie has learned overtime is that the human psyche is a scary thing. It turns out that mostly the town's reward for saving their lives, at least in Ichabod's case, is nothing more than allowing him to pretend he's just like everyone else. She suspects that some don't even believe anymore everything they saw with their own two eyes. No one talks about the pits opening up in the middle of the street. No one mentions the screaming. And even though there are a few-—Abbie knows because of the looks they give her from behind the curtained windows of their homes— that will _never_ forget, there are far more that already have. ) _

_In any case, Ichabod loves teaching and Abbie suspects that talking about and being surrounded by history for most of his hours helps him from feeling so out of place. And she feigns as if she never notices but she can see it in his eyes every so often. _

_Yes, he's been here for seven years (plus six months) and the truth of everything he's done proves he belongs, but he will still never quite fit all the way in._

_And then for all the other hours of his day that he's not at work, she supposes that he has her. _

_And Abbie does not put on a pretense, she is aware that she makes a difference, that they have something because she had never had someone innately believe in her and be on her side, always there. And Ichabod had had that before Abbie, once, but when Katrina had been lost (the only failure that mattered among the many they'd made on the way to triumph) Abbie had been the one there, keeping him from breaking, holding him up._

_(And she remembers a few years after Katrina, after finding peace and learning to breath again, when Ichabod had asked about "them" in the dead of the night and she had pretended that she didn't hear._

_and he had never brought it up again)_

_They eat dinner and lay themselves to bed (sleeping together had long ago begun as a means to an end__— _their nightmares so commonplace Abbie doesn't even remember what it's like to not have them anymore_— _) and that night Abbie hears creaking outside their bedroom window and feels for one second more useful than she has in the past six months. 

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_It ends up only being a fox (not a demon or a monster or a...)-—What now?' her mind whispers—_

_And Abbie can't sleep for the rest of the night._

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She doesn't realize she's decided to take a trip back to Sleepy Hollow until after her bags are already packed. She has plenty of vacation time and after her mistake at work her boss agrees that she might need some time off.

The drive is quiet and long and the closer she gets, the more she wants to turn around.

It's been 13 months since she stepped foot in Sleepy Hollow and there's a part of her that questions if the town is even there. Maybe it up and disappeared like Roanoke, maybe it's lost and she's it's only survivor. Maybe she's _crazy_ and when she turns up no one will even know who she is. _Maybe Sleepy Hollow isn't even real, a fictional town from a fictional story._

But then she sees the sign welcoming her home, and Abbie still knows all the right turns and the fastest ways to make it anywhere, and soon she's parking outside the police station, and quickly after that, being waved inside.

Abbie shakes hands with her heart in her throat. She'd missed so many of these people without even noticing it. She had— for many months, after denial had run its course— only been able to process how much she'd missed one person and he's not at the station. Abbie tells stories and listens to all that she's been gone for, smiles and is victim to everyone's' jokes about her being a bigshot, and all the while she can feel it in her bones that she has still not quite come home yet.

It's a silent question lingering behind everyone's eyes (Abbie is here by herself. The last time anyone in this town had seen her, she was not alone, not like she is in Quantico) but no one has the balls to say anything about it, at least... not until Irving, of course.

"You gone to see Ichabod yet?" he asks her bluntly, after she's been there for thirty minutes or so, putting on a show, laughing with everyone. Abbie turns, gives him her full attention (old habits die hard) and tries not to show how much just hearing Ichabod's name out loud affects her. She'd tried so long not to even _think_ his name (at first because she was angry and then because it hurt too much).

Everybody suddenly seems to get oh-so-busy around her.

"No, I haven't," she answers with her hands on her hips because she can't figure out what else to do with them.

Irving hums in thought.

"You know he still helps us out sometimes, as a consultant," Irving says and this surprises her enough that her mask falters. When Abbie had left Ichabod, he hadn't been doing that anymore.

"He does?" she asks, silently screaming, because the sound of her voice would give even the most hardened criminal away.

Irving just nods, and she is grateful, "Like old times."

Abbie blinks. Her chest is quickly getting tighter and her throat is running dry_— because in truth, nothing is the same._ She clears it.

"I hope not too much like old times," she jokes weakly and Irving smirks.

"Well, not _exactly_," he answers and then seems to think about it, "Thank _god," _he adds like everything they had gone through had been nothing more than a nuisance.

Abbie can't help but smile.

"You know,"Irving says after the moment has passed, his smile slipping away into something more serious, "He moved back into Corbin's old cabin after you left and besides the occasional visit here when we need him, no one sees Ichabod around town much."

Abbie's brows furrow. She still hasn't completely gotten her mind wrapped around Ichabod coming here, helping them, _without her__— _but this... _this_ can't be right.

"But he's still teaching at the college?" (she somehow ends up asking even though she'd meant to state it as fact.)

And Irving shakes his head, his eyes pitying (and she's honestly not so sure who the pity is actually meant for).

"Not anymore," he answers.

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Abbie and Irving catch up for a little while longer (though truthfully she can't even bring herself to pretend as if she's paying attention) and then he is heading back towards his office and shouting for everyone to say their goodbyes to the FBI star and get back to work.

Despite everything, Abbie's heart feels a little lighter at the familiarity of it all, missing it terribly, and she even gets a short, "It was nice seeing you again Ms. Mills," before Irving shuts his office door.

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When she leaves it is with only one destination in mind.

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_"You could come with me you know," Abbie says airily, continuing to pack her bags with her back turned to him. "It'll definitely be different from anywhere you've lived... like _extremely_ different but I'm sure with time—_

_"Why didn't you tell me?" Ichabod asks, and though his voice is as even as ever the act of interrupting her, is so unlike him that its just as shocking as if he had yelled. "You must have applied weeks ago... if not months, and you wait until the day of to tell me? You— you lie."_

_Abbie's head twists to look at him._

_"I never lied," she corrects, she needs this much, needs him to understand. "I just—_

_"You omitted," he finishes for her, but it's not as she'd hoped because his voice still sounds exactly the same. "And you think that's somehow better." _

_He looks disappointed with her._

_"I'm not saying that it's better," she snaps out of nowhere, irrationally angry. Who is he to look at her like that? Like she doesn't know what she's doing. Abbie holds on to the shirt in her hand with a white-knuckled grip, "Why would I tell you until I knew for sure?"_

_And he laughs. (short and concise, bitter and sad)_

_"And you knew for sure just today? Bought your— your flying ticket—" and he is too frazzled and confused, upset to remember the name of the thing (plane) he'd once marveled about when Abbie had first explained how people could fly. It seems so unimportant now. "Bought it just moments ago?" he asks._

_"No but—"_

_"You led me to believe that everything was to your liking here..." And now that he's started, he doesn't seem to be able to stop, " That you were happy with... everything." _

_And the pause he'd made seems to hold years worth of space. They both hear what he almost said: '—with me.' _

_'That you were happy with me.'_

_And Abbie flinches internally._

_"Why?" he asks._

_"I— I don't see what the big deal is," she laughs it off, looking away, "It's just Sleepy Hollow. I want you to come with me. I always intended-"_

_"No you didn't," he states and his voice is so sad and he sounds so sure that she looks back up at him. There is so much hurt in his eyes, "If you did... you would have let me know. How would you even explain me to anyone? How I don't exist in any way that matters? And you know I have opportunity here in a way I would not elsewhere. You're not that selfish Ms. Mills. You know precisely what you intended." (and this hurts because she can't remember the last time that he referred to her so formally... but more than that, it hurts because it's true. _

_Abbie doesn't want Ichabod to leave. Teaching makes him happy. He's started to build a new life in Sleepy Hollow and she doesn't want to be responsible for taking it away)_

_Abbie stays quiet because there is nothing that she can respond with which wont be a lie and __Ichabod stares back at her for a long time, like he doesn't even know who he's seeing. And then he takes a step forward and Abbie can feel him make the decision, though she can't seem to brace herself enough for it._

_"You know how I feel about you, how much you mean to me, and you're leaving."_

_"Just—" Abbie can't think, can't wrap her mind around this conversation, has been avoiding it for weeks. She had been avoiding him for weeks if she is being honest with herself. Her heart is in her throat and her breathing is off. Her head is spinning, pounding, splitting down the middle as if being ripped apart... or maybe, maybe that's her heart too. She doesn't know. She can't tell—_

_Her exhale comes out shakily, she doesn't remember gasping. "I— I can't be happy in this town anymore Crane. And I don't want you to come with me because then you wont be happy either. "_

_Ichabod's hand twitches at his side and Abbie imagines him reaching for her, can see that he wants to. His face is imploring and his blue _blue_ eyes never leave her brown ones._

_"You make me happy."_

_And she wants to give into the warmth his words fill her with, wants to believe in it, but she can't. Abbie shakes her head._

_"For how long?" she asks, eyes burning, fists tight, "Six months? Five years? How long do you think I could ever be enough?"_

_And it's not until after she's said it that she realizes she's been thinking it all along.  
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_'What now?'— the whisper mocks, grows louder in her head— 'What will hold you together now?'_

_Now that everything is over and the world is saved, there is no destiny. No more intertwined fate. No more _anything _holding them together. And it is only a matter of time before it all falls apart._

_Because Abbie has lost everyone who has ever meant anything to her (Her parents. Corbin)- or she's ruined it for herself ( Jenny. Luke.)_

_"Abigail, listen to me, if you think that—"_

_"I don't think anything," and she cuts him off, hardened. Resolved."If you want to know why I didn't tell you... it's because I didn't want to give you a chance to try and change my mind." And this much, Abbie knows, is the truth. This much she can deal with. "I don't want you to. I've made commitments and I'm going through with them. I'm leaving this town and I hope I never come back."_

_For a moment, after she's done, Abbie thinks that maybe Ichabod will still try and fight it. She sees the spark in his eyes, the defiance, and thinks that he will go against her wishes and argue with her until she stays. She thinks that he will fight her until she stops fighting herself. But then the spark dims (not gone, but controlled) and he doesn't._

_And Abbie tells herself that she's happy with this, that she's not disappointed. She tries not to believe that she's just not good enough to fight for because _of course _Ichabod would never go against her wishes. He's a gentleman— old fashioned and respectful to a fault— and she has always admired that about him._

_(Admired. not hated)_

_(not until now)_

_"If you're sure," he says, and the words seem so detached, that it's hard to tell if they're really coming from him, "If this is what you truly want Abbie._"_  
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_And even after the plane has taken off, and Abbie is buckled into her seat, high in the air, she can still taste the lie on her lips._

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_"It is."_

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The gravel is loud under the treads of her tires as Corbin's cabin comes into view.


	2. Interlude

**Author's Note:** Because I've been working on the next part to this fic forever and I haven't finished it but now Sleepy Hollow is back on ( _ahhh!_ ) and I just wanted (needed) to share _something_ and so originally this was just the "opener" of the next piece but it also works nicely as an interlude in the meantime so alas this short little teaser titled simply: Ichabod.

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_**Interlude**_

_Ichabod_

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At first, it is almost too easy. Ichabod wakes, goes to work, and comes home, repeats the same thing day after day. He smiles, going on about his regular routine as if nothing has changed and he teaches his students, the enjoyment still there. He does menial things that she'd taught him (like cooking on a stove, setting his alarm, or doing his laundry) and at night, he sleeps alone in their bed.

And he lives.

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In fact, it is quite some time before things begin to fall apart.

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She sends for her things.

All the rest of her clothes are taken from the closet, her shoes. She takes about half of her furniture. Abbie writes him a letter; short and concise as if it wasn't her who wrote it or it wasn't him she was writing to, letting him know he can keep everything the movers do not take because her new apartment is not as large as this one.

_(He turns the letter over again and again expecting to see something more_— _but never does.)_

It only takes a few hours until the movers are gone.

She leaves him the bed. _(There is no explanation for this in the letter either. He knows because he has turned it over again.)_

And as he lays on it— mid-day, dinner uncooked, still trapped in his stifling work clothes, feeling the absence of all her extracted possessions— he stares up at the blank white of the ceiling until he can no longer breathe.

Because it is not the absence of possessions that he feels.

Because she is gone (and he is weak, and he is alone, and he has been so so stupid for thinking anything else, for pretending that he has just missed her— a shadow at the edge of his vision— that her leaving was all only temporary).

Abbie is gone.

And the first crack splits and runs itself across his heart.

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_And although it is quite sometime before things begin to fall apart... when they do, they do so __spectacularly._

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